


221B-- Moving on and moving in

by chocolatemilk2



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, in which the main characters are both thick, john has ethics, pronz, sherlock is a sexual creature
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 02:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatemilk2/pseuds/chocolatemilk2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John walks in on Sherlock in the shower and presumes the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	221B-- Moving on and moving in

Blood pounded in John's ears, muting the sound of his breath to a dark silence.

Sherlock stood at the entrance to the bathroom, flushed, crisp lines of wet hair pressing on his face. His skin steamed in wavy wisps from the warmth of the shower and the glass behind him had misted over. Sherlock's eyes were staining black and he smelt musky, but clean and fresh. Water was dripping down his thighs in rivulets, his muscles were eased and relaxed in relief. Droplets cascaded from the tips of his hair down his jaw and over his mouth. He reclined on the sink countertop, razor in one hand and thick shaving cream splayed through his long fingers in the other. A towel covered his lap, ready to catch the excess.

Frozen mid-position, just like John, staring, watching, silent, demanding.

"Sorry," John whispered, and shut the door.

He was hard. Painfully so-- he'd just got back from his (unsatisfying) date with Sarah and was ready to relieve some of the built up excess tension, sexual and otherwise with a quick wank in the shower.

Evidently Sherlock never locked the door.

Shit, shit, shit-- how embarrassing. He'd been trying to avoid his crush on Sherlock for weeks now, out of some misguided sense of shame and honour for his girlfriend, and now he had the bad luck to walk in on him naked. God, Sherlock would think it was on purpose with the way John stared at him.

What the hell did he do? He couldn't go wank - Sherlock was a genius, he'd know - he couldn't go back into the living room and pretend it never happened.

"John, you must know I consider myself married to my work..." Did he take this as interference? As sign John was a lost cause?

Those legs...

John bit his lip, and when that didn't work to dissuade him any, shoved his fist in his mouth and chewed on it.

There was only one thing for it, and it made John wilt and grimace to even think about, but oh god, he couldn't face Sherlock now, not after that, the man would think he was horrible. Some desperate pervert who interrupted his friends when they were showering and caught their breath when they saw him wet without a shirt... God, John was doomed.

You've got no choice, he told himself. You have to leave here right now.

John stumbled upstairs, pulled out his wardrobe clothing at a limb, half-blind, hangers and all. Stepped back into his pair of shoes and zipped up his bag and grabbed his wallet and his laptop and his phone.

He wouldn't force himself on Sherlock, not if the man wasn't attracted to him. How humiliating to be caught out. John had really hoped he could get through this so he and Sherlock would still be friends, but it looked like that couldn't be true anymore. John looked around 221 B for the last time, turned around and thought about how horrible and bland life was going to be again. About what an opportunity he'd wasted.

"You're going."

The voice startled him out of his surmisal, and John spun around on instinct, relieved to find his partner dressed. He was wearing one of John's shirts, he noticed, winkled and discarded for the laundry basket. His hair was damp and still dripping a bit and his skin had a slight sheen. John wondered if it would be cool to his touch yet, and tightened his grasp around his belongings. "Yeah," John said.

Sherlock swallowed convulsively. "I am sorry," the detective said, and looked down to his feet, bare. "I didn't mean to seem untoward, or to impinge on your relationship with Sarah. The door was left unlocked just habitually."

"Oh," replied the doctor, and John felt the twitch in his jaw begin to start. "No, it's my fault. I should have noticed-- I should have done something about these feelings earlier."

"John, it was out of your control."

John nodded at Sherlock, wishing the man wasn't looking on so sadly when it was him who felt like his heart was breaking and he who had these emotions that weren't containable. Sherlock, the sociopath, so lucky. Why did the man have to be so sympathetic towards him right now? John wished he would yell, say what he really thought, that he was disgusted that his friend thought of him that way and that he was happy to see him go.

A small part of him hoped Sherlock would do the opposite and say that it was all alright and he didn't mind (but who wouldn't?) and John didn't have to go, that he could come straight back in.

Stupid stupid stupid, John told himself and they couldn't nod anymore so he attempted a small failure of a smile and turned out the door, letting it shut hard between them.


End file.
